Graduate Student, she/her, a mental health advocate, loves learning, will always be found with her nose in a book, working on holding space for all our quirks.
A purple ribbon fell to the ground. I watched a child topple over from their tricycle. Before I could reach out, their parent walked over to help them get off the ground. The child began looking at their bruised elbows, dejected. One of the wheels of the tricycle spun to
I have observed that a warm drink and the newspaper is a morning ritual in many households. I skim through the headlines as reading on my phone has grown on me. Last year's headlines could not have been imagined. As these papers are archived, I wonder how the
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I look around me as the team goes over their introductions. I begin to notice institutes, grades, internships, faces, and the people fade into the background. I check in with myself to understand the way I feel. I notice a sense of enough-hood crop up. Enough-hood, I think about the
Square boxes and a task listed on its side. I look down at my phone and brace myself for the day that follows. I hold a gentle space for how I feel overwhelmed at the tasks ahead. I try to invite curiosity for today, curiosity allows me to feel the
Teacher's Day, a reminder blinks on my phone. I spend a few moments reflecting on how we would celebrate our teachers in school, with acts of gratitude. We curated plays, poems and worked on handmade cards. The essence being, 'Thank you for this, this classroom and all
The most moving message I have received from someone reads, "Thank you for existing. Sending you love today." I noticed how I am mindful of expressing gratitude when I receive acts of love and kindness. This message stunned in its simple expression of "I love you for
I carefully place seeds in a pot of soil, leaving it by the window sill. I look at the pot for the days that follow and notice how I can only see earthy soil. No visible signs of growth or sprouting. I recall vividly how my 6th-grade science teacher spoke
She pulled at the kite, shook it, and then leaned back. The kite sprawled out against the cottony sky fluttered in the wind and found a smooth breeze to sail on. I write this piece as I look through my journals describing a mental picture of a teenager flying kites
Antara: Have a nice day, Eli! E: Have a day, A! A chuckles. A: An odd way to phrase it, don’t you think E? E: Maybe I want you to be okay with your day, even if it isn’t as ‘nice’? A: That’s an interesting proposition. E:
Cara asks her Dad. C: Would you be thin, if you could, Dad? C gently nudges at his belly. D looks at his toddler and wonders how to approach this conversation. D: Do you like your body, C? C looks down at her clothes. C looks up at Dad: I
Yellowing leaves are not a great sign, I was never great with plants and an honest confession to the internet will not change that, unfortunately. I look at my plants on the window sill and my heart goes out to them. I named them, I tried to nourish them, rattled
A jug full of lemon juice. I grew up being greeted with lemon juice after hot school days. Pondicherry, a coastal town made for unusually warm summers and winter days were lukewarm. I always looked at the jug on the table and wondered how much was left, how many glasses